


Here Goes Something

by RoseByAnyOtherName17



Series: The Lion, the Wolf and the Dragon [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Battle Strategies, Conflict, Dothraki, Dragons, First Meetings, Gen, Ironborn - Freeform, Mention of Petyr Baelish, Mentions of Casterly Rock, Mentions of King's Landing, Mentions of Robyn Arryn, Mentions of Sansa Stark, Mentions of Tyrells, Mentions of the Riverlands, armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 05:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10984770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseByAnyOtherName17/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName17
Summary: "You may fall in love one day," Jon told her. "You should not have to sacrifice that.""Is love really so great?" Arya asked sadly."It is."The discussion of how best to take Westeros takes hours.





	Here Goes Something

**Author's Note:**

> The next installment :) as always, hope you enjoy and any feedback is welcome.
> 
> Title from the song by Nada Surf

Tormund stepped forward, but Arya was faster, grabbing Jon’s arm and yanking him back hard enough that he stumbled and almost fell. Jon straightened and glared furiously at Theon, but Arya raised a hand to his chest and pushed him back again. “He did not kill Bran or Rickon,” she reminded him.

 

“He betrayed Robb.”

 

“I did,” Theon said thickly around a bloody nose. “I won’t ever be able to make that right.”

 

“Ramsey tortured him,” Arya said. “Just like he tortured Sansa and gods know how many others.” When Jon didn’t stop glaring at Theon, a tinge of desperation entered her voice. “ _You said_ that the real war is not in Westeros, but beyond the Wall. We cannot fight amongst ourselves.”

 

Jon looked away.

 

Asha looked wary and Theon defeated, but to Arya’s surprise, Tyrion Lannister chuckled softly. “You have a wise sister, Jon Snow,” he said. “Welcome back, Lady Arya, and to the rest of you, welcome to Dragonstone.”

 

After another moment of watching Jon, Arya turned to Tyrion and smiled, offering her hand and letting him press his lips to it lightly. “Thank you, Lord Tyrion.” To Daenerys, “Your Grace, I am pleased to present my brother, Jon Snow.” Jon bowed his head and murmured, “My apologies,” to which Daenerys smiled slightly.

 

“There have been many rumours,” she said. “They call you ‘The White Wolf,’ or so we have heard. ‘The King in the North.’” She spoke calmly, but there was a strange glint in her eye, one that Arya hadn’t seen before. It made her shiver.

 

“The Northerners have named me their king,” Jon admitted, “but they know that the title means nothing without support. I will not go to war with you to keep the name.” He took a deep breath. “There is a much more dangerous enemy than you or me, Your Grace, and they are marching to Westeros as well. They will leave no survivors.”

 

Daenerys searched his eyes, violet to brown, and nodded. “It seems we have much to discuss, Jon Snow.”

 

**

 

Jon didn’t so much as look at Theon again after that, and he barely acknowledged Asha. To Arya’s surprise, he spoke warmly to Tyrion, and even Ghost approached the dwarf without hesitation, the same way he had Arya when she first arrived at Winterfell. When she asked Jon about it a few days later, he smiled and said, “Tyrion was the first person to teach me to accept that I am a bastard. A highborn bastard, but a bastard all the same.”

 

“It never mattered to me,” Arya said quietly.

 

Jon kissed the top of her head. “I know,” he told her. “I love you for that.”

 

Viserion took to Jon the way he had taken to Arya that first day in Meereen: hesitantly, then without reserve. He took to following them both when he wasn’t off exploring the skies, and Ghost bared his teeth for awhile before the fourth night rolled around and Viserion curled his entire body around the direwolf so that he couldn’t move away. Lyanna Mormont laughed at the disgruntled look on Ghost’s face, but the next morning there was no more animosity in Ghost, and when night came again, he settled next to Viserion with no protest at all.

 

Tormund and Lady Mormont approached Daenerys together to tell her that the Free Folk and Mormont armies would fight for and beside Arya. “Whatever she orders, we will do,” Tormund said gruffly. “We are sworn to her until this war is over.”

 

Jon and Daenerys spent a lot of time together, strategizing how best to take Westeros and defend it from the White Walkers at the same time. She believed him without hesitation when he told her of them, having heard the legends before from Viserys and, more recently, Jorah and Ser Barristan. “How many men are in the North that can fight?”

 

“About five thousand,” Jon told her, “eight thousand if the Knights of the Vale fight with us as well. But their support is…tenuous at best.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Petyr Baelish leads them,” Jon admitted. “If it were not for his aid, we would never have gotten Winterfell back from the Boltons. He came because my sister, Sansa, wrote him, and he remains in the North for her. He wants to marry her and…”

 

Arya spoke up. “He wants to marry her and take the Iron Throne with Sansa at his side. That’s what he told her.”

 

Daenerys took this calmly, but that dangerous glint was back. “Without this…Lord Baelish, what else holds the Vale to the North?”

 

“Lord Baelish holds the title of Lord of the Vale until Robyn Arryn comes of age,” Jon said, “and from what I have seen, he holds Sansa in high regard. They spent time together at the Vale before Petyr sold her to the Boltons, and he is fond of her. Unfortunately, he is very fond of Lord Baelish as well. If we have him disposed of, there is no telling what Robyn will do. He is unpredictable and a sickly child besides.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “Is he still so weak? I met him when your mother took me prisoner.” He shot an apologetic look at Arya, but continued. “I thought that he might grow stronger as he aged, especially after the death of Lysa.”

 

“He hardly has the strength to shoot an arrow straight, and he never hits where he aims to,” Jon said.

 

“His strength is not what matters,” Daenerys said. “What matters is that he continue to support the North against the White Walkers until I take the Iron Throne and can put more of my force into helping.”

 

“If he is so unpredictable though, guaranteeing his support will not be easy,” Barristan warned.

 

Arya bit her lip. “Proposing marriage might do it.”

 

Jon stood up immediately, looking furious. “No.”

 

“Jon—”

 

“Even if he were not your cousin, Arya, I would not allow it,” he said angrily.

 

Arya stood as well. “Sansa has already been forced into marriage against her will,” she argued. “ _Twice._ It would happen a third time if Littlefinger had his way, and he won’t. The next time Sansa marries, it will be someone _she_ chooses, someone she cares for.” It was her turn to look at Tyrion apologetically, but he reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she looked back to Jon. “Robyn is younger than I am and has not seen nearly as much. If we can get him out of Littlefinger’s control, we can impress upon him the advantage of marrying a Stark. There is no better way to get his support than to marry me. We _need_ the Vale on our side.”

 

“He is your _cousin_ , Arya.”

 

“I would have married my brother if he had taken back Westeros,” Daenerys pointed out, but she didn’t look happy about the idea either. Arya was surprised and a little touched at the Dragon Queen’s obvious concern.

 

Jon was still shaking his head. “I won’t allow it. There are other ways, there must be.” Arya opened her mouth, but he put a hand on her shoulder and continued. “You have never wanted to marry, Arya. If you must marry, it will be on your terms, and to someone you choose.”

 

“ _This_ would be on my terms,” Arya insisted.

 

“Enough,” Lyanna Mormont said, getting to her feet as well. She was hardly taller than Tyrion, but she quieted them all with a single look. “If a marriage is what is needed, I am closer to Robyn Arryn in age than anyone else here. House Mormont is well-respected; he would be a fool to turn down an offer from me.”

 

“You aren’t old enough to marry,” Jon said.

 

“A betrothal then,” Lyanna said dismissively.

 

“It would not be possible,” Tyrion cut in. “You are the lady of House Mormont already, and Robyn stands to inherit the Vale when he comes of age. A marriage could not work.”

 

Jon closed his eyes. “Enough talk of marriage. From what Sansa said, Robyn is fond of her; he may give his support just because we’re family. We can impress that upon him. Until there is proof otherwise, no promise of marriage will be made.” He bowed his head toward Daenerys. “If you will excuse me, Your Grace.”

 

Arya found him later that night, in the crook of Viserion’s wing with Ghost’s head on his lap. “You had no problem marrying the Karstark girl to a Thenn,” she reminded him. “Why is this different?”

 

“It was to protect her,” Jon said. “And she was not you.”

 

“I am not a child anymore, Jon,” Arya sighed, sitting as close as she could get with Viserion’s leg between them. The dragon grunted when she leaned against it, but made no move to dislodge her. “I know what is expected of me as the daughter of a high lord. The name Stark holds value.”

 

Jon looked sideways at her. “No Stark will ever do anything against their will ever again,” he said. “One day you may marry, but it will be _your_ decision, and yours only.”

 

“This is not the time for somedays, Jon.” She laid her hand atop his on Ghost’s head, buried in the direwolf’s fur. “This is war. Sacrifices must be made.”

 

“We have sacrificed enough,” Jon murmured. “One day you may fall in love, Arya. Or you may not. Whatever you do, it will be because you wish it to.”

 

She gazed sadly at him. “Is love really so great, Jon?”

 

He nodded at the ground, and didn’t say another word.

 

**

 

Regardless of what lay ahead for any one of them individually, it was time to make a move. “With the North and Dorne secured, there are many places we can strike,” Barristan said. “The Lannisters have control of the Riverlands as well as Casterly Rock and King’s Landing; the Tyrells hold Highgarden and the Reach; Storm’s End stands empty, but Cersei Lannister will not allow that for much longer. If we take Storm’s End, we can rally the rest of the Stormlands. The Tyrells will be threatened on two borders then, and at that point we can send someone in to negotiate.”

 

“The Tyrells may already be willing to negotiate,” Tyrion remarked. “If what Varys tells us is correct—and he is rarely _in_ correct—my dear sister has blown up the Sept of Baelor and taken Margaery and Loras with it.”

 

“What of Mace Tyrell and his mother?” Daenerys asked sharply.

 

Varys, who had hardly said anything unless he was spoken to directly, spoke. “They fled King’s Landing; according to rumours, Queen Margaery asked them to herself.”

 

“Clever woman,” Daenerys mused. “I assume they went to Highgarden?”

 

“Yes, Your Grace,” Varys confirmed.

 

Daenerys looked at the sketch of Westeros laid out on the table. “Before we march to their borders, we must send someone. Lord Varys, you are well-acquainted with the Queen of Thorns, are you not?”

 

“I will go, Your Grace.”

 

Arya was on the other side of the map, looking at King’s Landing. She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “Assuming that the Tyrells support your claim, Your Grace, the Riverlands will be Casterly Rock’s last supporting border. If, while Lord Varys is with the Tyrells, Riverrun could be taken…”

 

“There are too many risks,” Jon said. “Lannister armies lie on either side. If King’s Landing _or_ Casterly Rock caught wind of what was happening, any opposing force would be destroyed.”

 

Arya was chewing her lip, tracing her finger along the Trident. “What if Casterly Rock is already under attack?”

 

“Who would attack them?” Barristan asked.

 

“The Dornish attack from the sea,” Arianne answered, “and once the Tyrells have joined us, the Dothraki move in from the Reach.”

 

Arya looked at Daenerys. “Maester Luwin taught me of the geography of Westeros when I was young. The Westerlands are mainly plains, not quite the Dothraki sea, but similar. Could they fight there?”

 

“That still leaves King’s Landing,” Tyrion said. “Cersei will not sit idly by while we move across Westeros.”

 

Asha Greyjoy spoke from the corner. “How did Cersei Lannister blow up the Sept of Baelor, Lord Varys?”

 

“Wildfire.”

 

Asha shared a look with Theon. “You burned the slavers’ fleet when they attacked Meereen, Your Grace?”

 

“Not all of them, but yes,” Daenerys responded.

 

“Suppose the royal fleet burned as well,” Asha said, “and the Ironborn attacked King’s Landing from Blackwater Bay.”

 

“If both cities are under attack, even if it is not at the same time, Riverrun will not get enough support to fight back against an invading army,” Tyrion realized. “Even if the Freys fought with them, it may not make a difference. And Walder Frey will not declare for the side he fears may lose.” He frowned. “But who will hold Riverrun when it is taken?”

 

“I will,” Arya said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “At least until the war is won and a decision can be made as to who will take it from there.”

 

They discussed the invasion for hours, but at the end, they all agreed that the first thing they needed to do was get Tyrell support. Only then could they move forward with Arya’s plan to take Riverrun.

 

Varys departed the next day with a company of Unsullied.

 

**

 

Arya watched the way that Rhaegal clung to Tyrion the same way that Drogon attached himself to Daenerys whenever he could and realized that Tyrion must be Rhaegal’s rider before they even told her of the development. It was how she knew that Viserion had claimed Jon in the same way. “It was not by chance that I chose to come to you,” she told Daenerys one night, watching Jon and Ghost and Viserion all lay on the beach together. “Is it?”

 

“No,” Daenerys said softly, “it was not.”

 

Arya ached for Nymeria that night. She ached for her mother and father, for Bran, for Rickon, for Hot Pie and Gendry and everyone she had lost.

 

And in the morning, when the raven from Varys came saying that the Tyrells would stake a claim for Daenerys, she buried the pain and prepared to travel to the Riverlands.


End file.
